


Worth twelve

by Isidar_Mithrim



Series: Featuring: the Longbottoms [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Chocolate Frog Cards, Christmas, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Gryffindor Pride, Harry Potter Next Generation, Leaky Cauldron, Missing Scene, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 08:31:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20328160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isidar_Mithrim/pseuds/Isidar_Mithrim
Summary: Neville Longbottom, esteemed member of the D.A. and beloved professor at Hogwarts, is at home for the Christmas break.While his wife Hannah takes care of the patrons of the Leaky Cauldron, Neville is able to enjoy some alone time with his sweet daughter.They’re happily playing when she suddenly gets upset, and Neville will have to use all his tact, a clumsy Transfiguration attempt, a story, an old Chocolate Frog Card and a confession to understand what’s the problem and to make her feel better.





	Worth twelve

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [L'ultima Cioccorana](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/510727) by Isidar Mithrim. 

> JKR has never mentioned Neville and Hannah having kids, but since I’ve never heard her openly saying the opposite (and I’m not sure I want to know if she did XD) I like to imagine they did, even if I don’t have a specific head canon about it. In this scenario they have a daughter: I like to imagine they gave her Hannah’s mum name (she was killed – I think – when Hannah was still at Hogwarts), but since we don’t know her name, I picked Alice to honor Neville’s mum.  
Rereading my old notes, I recalled that my first idea was to have this scene set at Hogwarts between professor Longbottom/godfather Neville and a I’ll-never-be-as-good-as-my-father worried godson Albus (I wrote it before TCC was published), but eventually I wrote it for a contest that required a father!Neville, so I settled for this version.

**Worth twelve**

“Take this!” exclaimed Neville, trying to stab his daughter Alice – six and half years in February – with his wand.

“And that!” retorted Alice, parring his blow with her own wand and counteracting.

“Ah, you’ll never beat me, young lady, I’m a wonderful duelist!” bragged Neville with mirth, dodging her attack and almost knocking over the Christmas tree they’d just finished decorating.

Alice took advantaged of that moment of distraction to press her wand again is stomach.

Or better, that was what she was aiming for, but her wand had turned in a rubber chicken a second before the fatal hit.

“Aha!” gloated Neville, pointing his wand at Alice, who laughed out loud looking at the haddock well squeezed in his hand.

“How dare you laughing at me, little malefic witch!” he complained with a grin, grabbing her in his arms and tickling her with no mercy. “When you’ll be old enough to have a proper Ollivander’s wand instead of the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes Trick Wands, I’ll have my revenge, making you puff steam from your nose for a month!”

Neville understood right away that he must have said something wrong, because Alice froze, and he could see her eyes glistening and her lips trembling.

Kicking himself for his thoughtlessness, he kneeled in front of her, but she turned, giving him her back.

“Alice, honey… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… Have I said something wrong?”

Alice sniffed loudly and shook her head with vigor, her plait swinging in the air like a pendulum. When Neville put a hand on her shoulder with the lightest pressure, she shrugged it away. Neville then tried with the other shoulder, and this time she accepted his comforting touch.

Slowly, without pushing, he made her turn again.

Alice kept her head bend and her eyes fixed on the floor, but Neville’s heart clenched when he realised her cheeks were wet with tears.

“Love” he murmured, wiping her face with his thumbs. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

Alice kept her mouth shut, but at least she didn’t refuse straight away.

“Is it something I’ve said? Because if it’s my fault, I deserve to collect Bubotuber pus without protective gloves for a week!”

A tiny smile escaped her lips before she managed to hid it and resume a serious expression.

“See, I knew it was my fault! Poor me, mum won’t be happy at all to treat my boils again… not to mention the Muggle petrol smell that will fill the Leaky Cauldron for a month! May be… may be, if you’ll explain what I did wrong, I could try to make it up to you and leave the Bubotubers alone…”

Alice raised her reddened eyes to search for Neville’s gentle ones, then she took a deep breath, getting ready to spill the beans.

“It’s that… it’s that Ollivander will never sell me a wand, because… because I…”

She sniffed again, and Neville smiled warmly and caressed her back, not daring to outright interrupt her.

“Because I’ll never… I’ll never be a proper witch” she admitted eventually, while tears resumed running down her cheeks more copious than before.

Neville felt a rush of affection as soon he understood which was the problem, and he hugged her tightly, mindful of how much he’d suffered for not showing any sign of magic until he was almost seven.

He promised himself he was going to do his best so she wouldn’t endure the same torment, and he mentally kicked himself for not realising it sooner.

He cradled her in his arms for a while, letting her shed all her tears, letting her free to finally get out the burden that was oppressing her since who knew how long.

When she calmed down, he took her face in his hand and kissed her forehead. “Are you ok?” he asked with his sweetest tone, and relief filled him when Alice nodded.

“Come with me, now. I want to show you something” he told her, getting up and pulling out his wand – the real one, this time. He waved it in the air, and with a little bow he offered to Alice the read and white checkered napkin he’d just summoned.

Alice took it and was about to blow her nose, when she lowered it down to study it better.

“Dad…”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’ve cut a piece of a blanket of the Leaky Cauldron again…”

Neville looked with horror at the squared piece of cloth, but a moment later he couldn’t help joining her daughter’s giggles.

“Mum won’t be very happy” said Alice, amused.

“Er, no, I guess not… but I’ll remind her I’ve never taken Transfiguration N.E.W.T. levels and I hope that’ll be enough to be forgiven!”

Actually, Transfiguration had never been his strong suit, but he was happy that his clumsy spell brought a smile back to Alice’s lips.

He waited for her to blow her nose and wipe her tears on the infamous piece of blanket, then he vanished it – successfully, this time – and offered her a hand.

“Where are we going?” she asked with curiosity, taking his hand and following him.

“I told you, there’s something I want to show you.”

Her eyes widened in delight. “What is it?”

“Keep your patience, my lady, you’ll see it in a moment.”

Neville lead her in his bedroom and patted his king bed. “Hop on” he said with a smile, and Alice climbed on his bed and sat with crossed leg, clearly eager to find out what was all about.

He opened the drawer of his bedside table and opened the tartan tin that had once held McGonagall’s Ginger Newts. He moved the empty wrappers of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum aside and picked up the little envelope at the bottom of the box with careful gestures. He then sat beside Alice, but laid the envelope behind his back, withstanding Alice’s playful attempt to steal it.

“Let me see it!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!”he said with amusement, rising a finger as to scold her. “I’m sorry, mademoiselle, but you’ll have to wait a bit longer before opening it. First, I have a story to tell you…”

“Please, dad, let me see the letter first!”

Neville put his raised finger on his lips, asking for silence, and Alice didn’t have much choice left than to sit down again. Still, she folded her arms tightly and pouted, trying to make sure he didn’t miss her disappointment – it amused him even more.

He then cleared his throat and began his tale.

“Once upon a time, there was a young boy who was called… Trevor. He lived with his brave grandmother, because his parents were very, very sick. You must know, though, that her granny, that we’ll call... Octavia, wasn’t an ordinary person. She was a witch, and a talented one, for that matter! Of course she hoped that Trevor, as his father before him, inherited her magical powers too, but the more time went by without Trevor showing any sign of magic, the more she feared her nephew wasn’t a wizard at all… Until one day, when he was eight, his clumsy Great Uncle let him fall from the window!”

Alice, that was listening enraptured, winced in horror and brought a hand to her mouth.

“Luckily, the instant Trevor touched the ground, it became clear that he was a wizard, because he simply bounced off! At the beginning all the family was very happy, but after that episode Trevor didn’t show many other sign of magic, and until his Hogwarts letter arrived, many relatives still believed he wasn’t magic enough to got in… When he finally got to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Trevor stayed several minutes with the Sorting Hat on his head before it finally decided to sort him into a House… Gryffindor.”

“As you!” Alice exclaimed with excitement.

“Exactly” said Neville with a wink before resuming his tale. “Soon enough, though, it became clear to anybody – Trevor included – that the Hat must have been very wrong, because Trevor wasn’t brave at all, and there wasn’t a day that passed by without a student of his own year, but of another House, mocking him and telling him the Sorting Hat must have taken a colossal blunder.

“One day, though, another guy of the same year of Trevor, but a fellow Gryffindor this time, told him something that gave him the strength to react. Since that moment, Trevor became every day a bit more brave, and a few years later he even joined his friend in his dangerous adventures. And do you know who that friend was?”

“Who?” Alice asked immediately, getting on her knees, eager to know more.

_“Harry Potter.”_

Alice held her breath, amazed.

“At his side, Trevor challenged the Death Eater more than once, and after several twists and turns, he fought at Harry’s side in the Battle of Hogwarts. And during the Battle, in the moment of greatest need, do you guess what the Sorting Hat summoned for Trevor?”

Her eyes widened in awe; he reckoned that by now she must have figured how the story was going to end…

“You’re Trevor…” she whispered, impressed.

Neville nodded, unable to held back a smile.

“So… so, you really didn’t do accidental magic, when you were little?”

“Really.”

“And the other student _really _thought you weren’t a real Gryffindor?”

Alice was bewildered, and he couldn’t blame her. It was common knowledge that he’d drawn Godric Gryffindor’s sword from the Sorting Hat, and everybody knew he was the Head of Gryffindor.

“They really did, and actually I was the first to believe it, at the beginning.”

“So… I’ll have a wand too?” asked Alice, filled with hope.

“Of course you will.”

“From Ollivander?”

Neville sighed. “That I can’t promise, unfortunately, because he’s very old. I’m crossing my fingers, though, because despite his age he’s still the best wandmaker out there. Hopefully his trainee will be as good as him” he added with a wink.

Then he finally took the envelope from behind his back and settled it between them. Alice squealed with excitement, and he suspected she’d already forgotten about it.

“This,” said Neville, “it’s my most valuable Chocolate Frog Card… I’d planned to give it to you before you went to Hogwarts, but since we’re here…”

Alice hugged him with enthusiasm, but just for a split second, too eager to finally opened the envelope.

“Be careful” said Neville. She nodded, taking out the Card almost with reverence.

She only needed a glimpse of it to recognise the wizard, and she didn’t hide her disappointment very well.

“Dad…” she huffed. “I’ve already got three of them…”

“I know, Alice, but this isn’t any random Dumbledore’s card…”

She kept staring at the penetrating blue eyes behind the half-moon spectacles with mild skepticism, and Neville knew it was time for further explanations.

“Do you remember the boy that kept telling Trevor – that kept telling me, I mean, that I wasn’t a true Gryffindor?”

Alice nodded.

“Well, one day he hit me with a spell that tied my legs together, and I was forced to bunny hop all the way back back to my common room… and there I met Harry Potter. I thought he’d laugh at me too, that he’d tell me that I, unlike him, wasn’t brave enough to be a Gryffindor… instead, he offered me his last Chocolate Frog, and then he told me a line I’ll never forget…_You’re worth twelve of him_.”

Alice lowered her gaze on the card, and she finally took it all out of the envelope with even more reverence than before.

“Exactly, love. This isn’t any random Dumbledore’s card… This is the card that I’ve found in the Chocolate Frog that Harry had offered me. I gave it to him ‘cause, as you, I had already several Dumbledore’s card, but the morning after I found it on the table Harry was studying the day before, so I decide to take it, hoping it’d give me the courage to stand up against the other boy. It worked, and since then I’ve always took it with me whenever I knew I was going to need to be brave. It’s yours, now.”

Alice looked at him with slack-jawed amazement.

“There’s one condition, though. You have to promise me that every time you’ll think you’re not good or smart or brave or magical enough, you’ll look at this card and you’ll remember that you’re an amazing person, a witch that anything is going to do in life – any magic she’ll manage or not manage to perform – is good and loyal and fair. And you have to promise me that when you’ll look at it, you’ll remember than you have a mum and a dad that love you dearly, and that will always love you, no matter what.”

“I promised” said Alice, nodding eagerly, and then she hugged him tightly yet again.

They broke apart only when they heard Hannah climbing the stairs, yelling that _somehow _a piece of a blanket vanished under the eyes of two clients, only to reappear few minutes later weirdly soggy and squishy. 

***

{While Ron, Harry and Hermione got closed to a huge, dusty tome to read enraptured the biography of some guy named Flamel, Neville walked toward his dorm, a small smile tugging his lips at the thought that he’d just received the first, true compliment of his life.

_You’re worth twelve of Malfoy. The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn’t it? And where’s Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin._

That day, the Boy Who Lived had earned Neville’s eternal loyalty.}

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :D  
Feel free to drop any feedback, suggestion, correction about the story or the translation, opinion about headcanons and so on ^^  
You can also find me on [tumblr](https://isidar-mithrim.tumblr.com)


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